[He listens and watches her intently, right back. Kiritsubo's chosen form is indeed very pleasing, to the eyes and Concord imagines all the other senses. That pressure is definitely building in him, desire and impatience. He can restrain both, even taking some satisfaction in doing so, in taking their time though they've rushed to this point rather quickly. At least, for Concord. He'd have never imagined himself this kind of man. One happy to take someone to his bed so soon after making their acquaintance.

This place is doing something to him. He will think on if that is natural adaptation or sinful corruption later on. For now, he is focused only on her and her words.]

These are tattoos. [He notes to her, reaching a hand over his up to his own face, thumbing over the marks there. As he presses into each, they briefly glimmer with silver. That makes them read less as oddly arranged scars and more like he said. A tattoo in the shape of a constellation from back home...]

They have grown faded with time. Still, there is nothing soiled about such marks. They become a part of someone. [they are a magically practical thing to himself and to Ali, extra measures for locking away his horn and the dragons' wings when taking such forms. Concord would understand someone who simply wishes to adorn themself in artwork, though seeing no reason for judgement of that.]